Kids.....

… first visit? … a gladiator, a witch, and some little guy dressed completely in red like The Devil of yore- sans his pitchfork…..

…. but, wow, a gladiator?..... the little guy was probably all of five years old….. man, that is just plain hardcore…… good God, I love living in Tennessee……

.. second visit?..... a Spiderman (complete with the little pullover facemask – I am surprised that the little guy could see well enough to pick out his candy)….. he opened the door, said “Trick or Treat” and then handed me a “dum dum” sucker….. heh heh heh…. his Mother stepped in and said, “no, honey!... be patient!... HE will give YOU candy!”…. the confused little guy couldn’t have been more than three…. definitely his first Halloween of many, many to come…..

… third visit?.... two twin Darth Vaders without their helmets (.. no shit, identical twins!…) and a 16-year old guy who was nearly as big as me and who was dressed as a Holstein heifer…. complete with a four-teat udder fashioned just above his pubic bone..… which he pointed to and laughed while giggling, “Holstein heifer”.....

…. yes, I gave him candy anyway…… but I do sense either prison-time or political candidacy in his future…… or possibly both….. but then again, this IS Tennessee…..

... and that was the extent of my Trick-or-Treater fun for the evening.....

November does not suck. Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving, the Egg Bowl, and also the month of my birth in the year 1964. OK, so now that I think about it, seeing as how I'm rolling the 40s these days, I guess it does suck.

I had a few of the older ones, quite a few actually. It wasn't until the chick with the cell phone in her ear came up the sidewalk that the wife freaked out and said 'no candy for cell phones!' or something slong those lines. She couldn't beat a path out of there fast enough.

November anywhere north of S. FL is cool crisp weather, getting ready for the holidays, Thanksgiving, major football games, the smell of burning leaves, and if you really have your shit together... getting your Christmas cards finished and stamped to mail the day after Thanksgiving. Of course that would not be me...

November in S. Fl is still 85-90 degrees, humid, and no raking of leaves. That no deciduous tree thing is probably not so bad...

I can't quite put it into words the reason why, but the thought of you & the Missus, welcoming kids in their goofy costumes to your front porch, and doling out candy, amuses me, in a kind of a heart-warming way, to no end. You don't look much older than a kid yourself, so that might be partially why.

Olives....

….. sitting at the computer searching for recipes for ‘beef olives’ on the internet while the howls, shrieks, and bloodcurdling pleas from the victims in “The Hills Have Eyes” echo through from the living room…… ‘tis a bit unnerving, really…..

…. And honestly?.... hearing cannibals enjoying themselves so raptly is a bit of a buzz-kill when one is trying to focus on finding something yummy for dinner…..

…. Ahhhh…. Success, sort of…. evidently beef olives are steaks that have been beaten flat and then wrapped around some kind of filling/stuffing and then baked…. Ewwww….. oh, and sometimes they use sausage for the filling too!.....

Oh! Ask your wife about Children of the Corn! Heh. That was funny. In the corn maze, all of us women talking about young kids going on dates in the corn maze and 9 months later... Children of the Corn. ;-)

Meat wrapped around more meat and baked? What could be more perfect??? My mind is working and I'm thinking lamination- kinda like lasagna but with no pasta and some form of gravy or perhaps "au jus" for sauce.

Wow....

....and speaking of "terrors" in the last post, I just found this via Lollygaggin and Leslie.....

You Are a Werewolf

You're unpredictable, moody, and downright freaky.
You seem sweet and harmless, until you snap. Then you're a total monster.
Very few people can predict if you're going to be Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde.
But for you, all your transformations seem perfectly natural.

Hopefully, by the time next year's Erictoberfest rolls around, peeps will have long forgotten the bits about seeming "sweet and harmless, until you snap. Then you're a total monster," and "Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde."

You are deviously brilliant and a perfect manipulator.
You somehow always end up getting what you want - without anyone knowing you're working behind the scenes.
Crafty and cunning, you can work your way out of any jam.
And it's easy for you to get people to do what you want, whether you're working for good or evil.

Terrors....

…. A more perfect autumn day than the one which just passed, well, it’d be hard to find….. practically impossible, now that I think of it……

…. 72 degrees - the perfect outdoor temperature for my body… long-sleeves & jeans weather…… a cloudless, robin’s egg blue sky…. the slightest hint of a breeze which was pregnant with the smell of burning leaves and damp earth and steaks searing on grills…. even the jungle of foliage that surrounds my house is finally bursting with a thousand different colors in celebration of The Season arriving….

…. The garbage from this past weekend’s shindig has been bagged, tagged, and is neatly seated at the end of the driveway awaiting collection by Da Garbage Guyz in a few minutes….

… indeed, the only thing which has remotely harshed my mellow today was witnessing this little badboy on the television…. Behold, gentle rubberneckers….

…. damnation!!....zombie alligators!... in FLORIDA!.... .. it made me wish that Jimbo and I could pour ourselves a large tumbler of the INCREDIBLE single malt that Denny gifted me this weekend and suffer through the show screaming like little girls buoy our spirits with a fine spirit and be quaintly entertained by both of our arch-terrors being poked and prodded by the Florida Department of Fish & Game...

… that said, though, it has been a very good day….. I’m off to find a soft spot on the couch and sip upon a 24 year old Highland Park…. It will be the perfect lotion to polish this most excellent day with…. trust me…..

Lambasted....

…. You know, ladies and gentlemen, some tales that you read about on the internet just get taller and taller as the telling gets more polished…… but hey, that is what is expected!.... after all, as bloggers, we are bullshitters & storytellers by nature!.... that said, I do have to admit that I was guilty as charged…. And while I would love to tell you guys a lovely, touch-feely story about how I actually sprang upon four friendly, frost-covered blogggers while armed with only a feather pillow and handful of peacock quills, sadly, that wasn’t the case….. I did, indeed, have a shovel….. (.. and since this incident is becoming a legend all on its own amongst the Jawja Bloggers, I should probably go and fetch it for a photograph…. what do you think?..)

…. anyhoo, still have no clue what this, your humble, humble servant, is talking about?....

Ready.....

…. Hmmmm….. well, it looks like we might get a bit of rain tomorrow morning…. so those of you who are trekking slowly towards The Compound here, drive safe…. the garage has been cleaned out and de-spidered, so if it does rain, we’ll be fine hanging out in there and shooting pool……

…. anyone who is allergic to cat hair might want to give the garage a miss though….

…. the couch in the living room is quite comfy and I highly recommend it…. the big chair is nice as well…..

I will be up near Gatlinburg this weekend, but I might have to leave early if SC puts whuppin on Tenn. My buddy up there is a die hard Tenn. fan and owns several guns and he is a hillybilly with a corvette.

CaptainSQL!!!!!!! shall be ever watchful, on-call throughout the weekend night and day, guarding against bad binds, out of space conditions, and failed utilities! Fear not, for the Fiduciary Health of America rests easy while CaptainSQL!!!!!!! remains on call!

Coming to you from a hotel in Bristol, VA. Rain, rain, rain for most of the way. Then caught up in the traffic with the crazy Virginia Tech fans on their way to the game against Boston College. Game is on now, and these crazy bastards are sitting there in the pouring rain.

By contrast, I am sipping Woodford Reserve bourbon. Sweet!

See ya tomorrow.

I would post on my site, but I'll be damned if I can remember my user name and password. I blame the bourbon.

Abandoned....

….. good evening, rubberneckers…. I hope that you are all well……. as for me?.... well, today was not a banner day around The Compound here….. nothing major, I guess… (depending on how you look at things in general)….

…. nah…. that’s bullshit….. I cant lie, it messed with my head on lots and lots of levels…. So yes, I guess it was major….. not MY family, no… but a fellow human being nonetheless…

…. I arrived to bring my Sainted Mother lunch today (while she was in the therapy room) and was greeted by a weeping Marie alone in their two-person room….. Mom was off getting her knee tweaked and evidently Marie’s son had just left before I came in the door…… and he had broken the news to her that she will be a resident at the nursing home until she dies…. She was crushed, heartbroken, horrified, and hopeless…. And I caught it all…..

… Marie fell a month ago and couldn’t get herself back up… so she lay in the floor of her old, Polk County home until a neighbor brought her the mail the next day…… bad, bad shape, folks…. So they stuck her in a home…… good god, the arthritis that has taken up residence in her hands has wrecked them so badly that all of her fingers are curled and twisted…. And useless…… a body broken by time and Life….. and yet her mind is as clear and as sharp as anyone’s……

…. I tried to console her as she sobbed, but what could I really do?.....

Me: “What’s wrong, Marie?..... what has happened?... Where is my Mom?”….
Marie: “…. My Son came by and told me that I can’t go home….... I told him that I hate it here, but he said that I have to stay….. “
Me: “……”
Marie: “… I thought he loved me more than that, Eric…. “
Me: “…. “
Marie: “I raised all of my children good, Eric….. I was never mean to any of them.”
Me: …. “….I know, ma’am…. I know that you did… can I get you anything?.... are you hungry?”….
Marie: “I will never be hungry again, Eric. I told him that the food here wasn’t fit to eat, but he said that I have to stay anyway.”
Me: …”……..”…
Marie: “I dressed myself this morning. I did it on purpose so that he could see that I could take care of myself.”
Me: ….. “…. That is good, Marie…. It is good that you are getting better and that you can take care of yourself…. Perhaps in a while, you will be able to go home..”….
Marie: “He said that if I wanted to go home, he would bring my checkbook and I could call a taxi…. But he wasn’t going to take me as it wasn’t safe for me to be home alone.”
Me:……. “ I am sorry, Marie….. is there anything that I can do?”….
Marie: “No, honey, there is nothing that you can do.”

…. And she cried and cried….. and I patted her back like someone would do a six year old who had just stumped their toe…… and I knew that this was the end of the road for this poor woman….. this kind, generous, sweet old woman who had gotten married 1 week prior to her 17th birthday (her husband lied to the Justice of The Peace) and raised a family of five…..

…. she was completely betrayed and heartbroken… devastated… and I can’t blame her one bit…… she had every right to be so……

.. fuck all that trash, people.... look, here is my promise, folks, and you can trust my words as if they were forged from pure gold…..as long as I am upright and able, I will NEVER allow my Mother to be warehoused… NEVER….. I don’t care if the house falls down around me, my wife walks off and shacks up with the mailman, and Iran gets a nuclear weapon, I will never leave her to sit and know – full well – that she had changed MY diapers and fed ME through a childhood of love and I thought it somehow unseemly to return the fucking favor…..

…. I’ve only known Marie for less than four weeks…… but her lesson to me has been taught absolutely and completely…… and I will not forget…..

That is just wrong! That boy needs to be taken out behind the woodshed! She doesn't need to be in a home, but in an assisted living facility where she can still cook and clean up after herself, but if she falls or something, there is someone to help her.

Yo, if you want, because that shit is just WRONG, since a bunch of us are coming down [or up, depending] to visit, maybe we could pay a friendly visit to your mom, and then wait for the dumb schmuck unworthy son to appear when he visits his mother, if that's something he does regularly, so we could show him the error of his ways.

*sigh* There are times when a family can not handle an elderly person by themselves, but in this case, the poor woman has her faculties and can even do most of her own care.

If her family doesn't want her, she should be able to live in "assisted living" which is not a nursing home, but apartments where elderly people live who need to be checked on periodically. They live their own lives, they just have help nearby if they need it. It is NOT at all the same thing you see in the nursing home/rehab place your mom is at now.

I'm so sorry for Marie. Tell her I'll be praying for her. I know it won't help, I wish there was something we could all do.

Eric,
I'm living your vow right now. Marie needs to research home health care or assisted living options quickly. Home health care costs about the same as a nursing home, but you get to stay put in your own home. It can be arranged very quickly, as I've just found out. Hopefully she didn't sign medical power of attorney over to that turd.

Home health aides are usually covered by health insurance, as they are cheaper than 24 hour nursing care, and assisted living centers are also quite affordable.

Perhaps if you run into the little snivelling selfish crapweasel cocksucker next time you're there, you can tell him those things while you are ramming his pathetic excuses for balls up into his diaphragm.

hint, hint: the mailman prolly knows about the weaponry. doubt he could be stupid enough to deliver any more than a parcel to the fair fiona.

and that story breaks my heart. perhaps a glimpse though, of what lots of people struggle with. I have seen some sad, sad things dealing with the elderly being left at home to take care of themselves. She really is fortunate to be in a facility where she can be taken care of. sounds like her son would be poor help to her even if she was home.

I will not condemn anyone for placing a parent in a ursing home; at least not without knowing all of the circumstances. I agree assisted living is a much better deal though, and it even usually beats home health care because the old folk in assisted living get to form a community and to make friends. Home health care nurese are in in for a job, and a job alone, and have not usually been the nicest people I have ever met, nor the most honest if you get my drift. Assisted living peronnel are usually much nice, maybe because they are paid better.

There may come a day you may have to eat those words my friend. It's a lot harder than it looks. My dh's grandfather finally had to go into a hospital b/c he refused to register somewhere that he wished to be.... it was horrible for him and us. But they couldn't care for him anymore, he was making them ill.

I have some thoughts on this. But I am in the minority, so I will not share them. However...I do admire you, Eric for comforting the lady as best you could, and it tears my heart out that people have to get old and suffer. Sometimes there are more sides to a story than are evident at first blush. Your kindness may be unnoticed by her family, but will not go unnoticed in heaven. Talk to you later. Cyn

My grandmother lives with me. She's almost completely deaf even with hearing aids, crippled so badly with arthritis she can barely hobble around with a walker, and her mental gears are sadly slipping a bit too. It ain't easy, but I'm glad to be able to help. I hope I'll always be able to help, but there are things she won't accept help for, so, well, I guess I don't want to finish that thought.

Anyway, there are things that offspring can't always fix, but it'll be her decision to go, not mine to stick her someplace easier for me.

Screw this guy, you don't just dump your mother in a home. Hey, that's why Life Alert was invented, amirite? So we wouldn't have to abandon our moms and dads, and they could still live on their own without the fear of some bad s*** happening. Anyone who wants to put their parents in a home is a f***ing retard, and should be ejected via boot to ass, from society.

Corruption....

OK, the buck stops here. I do not approve of this Hostile Hillbillification of Hairboy [...mercy... Aliteration...ACTING!], because then where would that leave me? Nobody would come up to the Northeast for mini-blogmeets in the city, and then I'd be all freaking alone.

For the record, Big E: I have always loved grits. The first time my folks ever drove down 95 with me, every morning for breakfast I ordered them. They kinda remind me of farina, which I could absolutely eat buckets of. Those Trader Joe grits were awesome, btw!

On a separate note [Jimbo is *so* going to destroy me for saying this, but...]:

re: "I heard you are all over the biscuits and gravy, too!"

Jeanie baby, if you'd-a seen Hairboy's t-shirts @ Helen, you woulda seen that whatever he was eating was actually all over him.

Hot damn, Bobby Sue, that wuz a gud un! I'm lovin' the rain all day long -- been out walkin' in it several times. Ain't nothin' like a little PPL to get my feet movin' and help me dry out. Bring 'em on boys...

I like that song pretty good now, lot's of memories from that "era"... 56 Fairlane, headed North on Hwy 3. Autumn, leaves changin', 8 track jammin' and sittin' in the passenger seat lovin' every minute of it.

Return....

….. misty, cool rain today for most of the afternoon……cloudy skies with dark clouds to the East and West…. bracketed…… but the leaves are changing slowly, sleepily, gently.….. not like they did a few years ago with such a vigor that they seemed to change overnight.....

…. the rain that has been lacking during the past Summer is finally arriving…. And everything is drinking their last before the Winter hits….. and from all reports, it will hit with a vengeance…..

…. my favorite time of year, really… October and November….. cool mornings and warm days….. with frosty evenings….. it is absolutely dazzling…… colors that rival the greatest Summer dawn’s flowers and birds….. the Autumn brings a new set of colors – less vibrant, sure – but equally beautiful………

….. and the horn from the train that whips by a few miles away carries so much farther this time of year….. hearing it near the two crossings southwards and the two northwards is never a chore…. I love hearing the whistle as it gets close……

…. And it is easier to hear it when the humidity is low and the air is cold……

…. I so love October…..

…. October is my month - full of the world falling steadily asleep….. I watch it all and cannot get enough……

…. Some people like Spring, I guess…. The rebirth of everything around them….. but for me, I love the fall…..I love The Promise…. I love the idea that everything will return….. again, and again, and again……

Bitten....

… for years, folks… absolutely YEARS I have been biding my time…. sitting patiently, quietly, knowingly…. confident in the certainty that karmic payback would eventually be doled out for this post…. And last night, justice was finally done….. and it was OH SO SWEET!....

…. lookit, please tell me that some of you learned rubberneckers tuned in to the National Geographic Channel last night to watch Brady Barr scream like a little sissy when that python bit him in the ass…. Sweet, ever-loving Jeebus, that was awesome….. I’ve been excited about seeing it since NGC started teasing us all with the trailer three weeks ago…. and let me tell you, it was well worth the wait to see that hammerhead – hip-deep in mud, bat-piss, and bat-shit AND gagging due to ammonia-drenched air – get popped in the ass by an angry reticulated python…. His feeble wailing was an added bonus, too…. good god, what a wonderful night…..

…. I swear, I could hardly quit laughing each time he screamed, “ahhhhyyeeee!!!... it’s got me!... it’s GOT ME!.... AAHHHUUUEEEEE!!!....” …. And then later when he was still wading around in the bat shit?... he blubbed a few more times and then cried, “I gotta get OUT of HERE!... I got a REALLY BAD BITE!”….

… damnation, folks, I nearly peed myself….. and hey, we don’t use the term “gleeful” around these parts very often….. but with every whine that emanated from his cinderblock-like head, the glee-factor in my living room rose by 10%...... and by the end of that hour-long show, I was positively gleeful…..

…. don’t get me wrong, now…. I am not the type of person to ever wish ill-will on anyone… especially not someone that I have never met….. but I will tell you this, watching him crap his pants and scream like a little girl made me very, very happy….

.. if you ask me, the bastard had it a’coming….. so here you go, gentle rubberneckers..... behold a bit of the trailer that made me so enjoyably gleeful....

Elisson, SWMBO, Leslie and I were just having this same conversation last week, about Bat Guano, and the low forms of life, which proliferate all over it [it gave me some serious willies]. Any dooshbag who ventures into a place like that absolutely deserves to get bit on the tucches.

Not thrilled that you chop Black Widow Spiders in half, because I fear for your own karmic retribution, but as for this putz with the cinderblock head, he definitely had it coming to him.

I like snakes,I keep enough of em; but I would never keep a Reticulated Python. They are outright nasty. They have got big teeth too, very big teeth. I imagine each whelp that Cinderblockhead man made was due to excruciating pain (and fear), since the more he moved like an idiot trying to pull or was it run away, the worse the bite would be. He would have been better off to not move and let his buds get it off of him. I guess though when waist deep in bat piss and shit, in a dark eeerie cave full of winged rodents, snakes, and roaches (among other creepy things)something like a Reticulated Python biting your ass could make anyone panic. Sure was funny as anything that I have seen in a long time though!

Not so funny is the fact that this guy should probably now be getting rabies shots as a preventative. Hopefully someone has thought of that. Several years ago, I recall that two spelunkers came down with rabies. Neither one ever mentioned to anyone that they had been bitten. It was surmised at the time that they caught rabies from walking and crawling through guannno laden passageways while they were caving. They, of course, both died from the rabies.

Damn I almost had flash backs when he he started screaming and crying he needed to get out of here, reminded me of the time I turned a copperhead loose in my stepmom's kitchen and she climed to the top of fridge looking for the screen door. I wish him not lasting ikk effects, but do home the traspassing idiot can not sit for a week or two.

Perfect. You're wading through a waist-deep slough of bat-shit, replete with all the lovely life-forms that live in bat-shit, and a python comes and rips a nice big hole in your leg so as to Let The Bat-Shit, Maggot and Roach Stew Right Into Your Bloodstream.

Jeebies.....

….. my little stretch of jungle continues to keep me entertained…. I tell you, when it starts getting the least bit chilly here in Tennessee, every critter that can muster the energy to seek shelter begins weedling their way into my home….. why, just today I was visited by praying mantis that was about 7 inches long whilst I to’d and fro’d in my garage…. and a wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie tree frog was spotted later in the day while I lounged on the deck after Tennessee got thrashed… (.. sincere apologies to Rabbie Burns for that one)…. and the grackles are here, too, having made the trip from Yankeeland for the winter, and legions of them are currently arguing in the trees out back…

… and on top of everything else, there was a huge catfight last night somewhere in the darkness of the woods behind the house….. complete with a bloodcurdling caterwauling that would make fingernails on blackboards sound like a cello being gently stroked while firmly gripped between Susan Sarandon’s thighs…..

…. Anyhoo, since I know that y’all are absolutely riveted with anticipation, here’s a shot of the aforementioned Monstermantis…..

.... pretty good size, non?.... took up the entire shoulder of The Missus' wax jacket, he did....

.... as for the tree frog, well, it was taking refuge in a tiny nook where the vinyl siding meets the kitchen window..... here he be.....

.... I tell you, boys and girls, it's a jungle out there...... and hey, just because I love all of you so much, here's a little video of the black widow that I mentioned a few posts ago just before I nipped her in the proverbial bud....... enjoy, folks!....

You know what I think? I think you're having 2nd thoughts on us comin' to your home next week. I think you're trying to scare us to keep us away! Well... too bad. Plane tickets have been bought and rides arranged and we're showing up! Jungle or not, here we come! Heh. ;-)

Still waiting to move back home, along with the rest of Northeast Ohio after the chemical whup-ass uleashed on the A-Rod devouring midges of Lake Erie. Verily, even AlGore must endorse these measures to make the world safe for George Steinbrenner's candyass millionaires.

Also continue to be amazed and ticked-off at college football unpredictability. What is Vanderbilt, and aren't they a High School? Somebody's gotta bring order into the rankings, and it's up to Jim Tressel and Co. to do it, even if it means pounding every third-rate MAC team from here to Des Moines by over 50 points!

You peeps and your crazy Southern insects. My God! Like the lovely Bou says, flights and hotels are booked, so Teresa and I shall be there, and besides, I wouldn't miss her Friday night meal if a nuclear bomb detonated in Sheepshead Bay.

Bugs are not a few of my favorite things, and I would be most appreciative if I can be assured one of those Praying Mantis Shits will not land on my shoulder at any time over the weekend.

I do thank you for all the effort you've gone to. Although, I would not bank on your being voted a member of the Insect Kingdom's equivalent to the United Nations' Security Council.

Bou, email away, but keep in mind, I consider Stouffer's Microwavable Mac & Cheese Five Star, so if yours is a step up, then that is like Holy Crap Five Star, and not just merely plain old B.S. five star.

Bleeding....

…. For those of you who are making the intrepid trip out to my bungalow next weekend, you will be happy to know that my garage (where the pool table is) is serenely free of free-ranging black widow spiders…… courtesy of my Brother and I breaking our backs to make sure that it was a spider-free zone today…..

…. Chemical weapons were used, I am sorry to say….. as well as fly-swatters, rolled-newspapers, and an old tile-knife that he found laying around somewhere…….. so yes, you guys will be safe when you visit next weekend…… but just remember the Monumental Brutality that was flexed to make sure that you guys were able to have a “good time” while at my humble pad…..

.. good god, half of my ‘blogfodder’ got whacked Soprano-style in the course of one afternoon because of you arachnophobic hammerheads….. just think on that for a moment, people….. I crush my blog’s livelihood simply to make you guys more “comfortable”….

….. y’all just simply have no idea how much me, my neighborhood, and the environment as a whole absolutely BLEEDS (literally, not figuratively) for you guys……

Well, this serious arachnophobe does thank you, because when I am kicking somebody's ass at pool, I don't want to have to run away, screaming, with my panties all bunched up in a wad, because I saw something move that shouldn't be moving. I ain't forfeiting a single game.

You shall find other critters to blog about... you'll just have to go back to squirrel watching.

Not that I'm an arachnophobe, but I'm very glad to hear I won't have to take up arms against a female of any species. I'm not sure I have the requisite fine motor skills to use a knife the way you do. Therefore my methods would be far more messy although equally deadly. *grin*

Like Teresa, I'm not an anachnophobe, I'm a roachaphobe, but still greatly appreciate the Peace Prize efforts as the whole 'black widow' thing does creep me out. I'd hate to be watching y'all play pool (pool is yet another game that involves a stick and a ball like baseball and golf, that I cannot play) only to have a black widow sit next to me. No.

Music...

…. whilst randomly cruising youtube this afternoon, I happened upon a song that I hadn’t heard in years….. and I was completely mesmerized….. it was an old “Nitty Gritty Dirt Band” song called “Long Hard Road”…… and what a flood of memories it brought back…..

…. I’ve never picked cotton as they depict in the song…. Cotton is grown about two hundred miles further west than where I lived as a child…. and my family was never really that poor…. but when I was overseas for the first time at 17 years of age, hearing that song piping its way across the AFRTS channel and into my lonely ops floor, I identified…..even when off the coast of Siberia and watching the Russian fleet leave Petropavlovsk, I clung to every word that ventured forth from Jimmy Ibbotson’s mouth….. that song grounded me…..

….. I was the youngest, always (it seemed)…. and the only Southerner in the group…. And I was most definitely out of my element among the buzzing pieces of crypto equipment and the polished, hermetically sealed floors……while the structure of the place strangled and scared me…. but that is beside the point…

….back to the song, yes?….. see, with myself, it was tobacco instead of cotton….. and a more vile crop has never been harvested, if you ask me, than tobacco…. tobacco is a tribulation from the moment that you plant it until the 9 months later when you finally take the crusty, mummified remnants from harvest to auction…….. bales upon bales of sorted leaves that took thousands of manhours to plant, grow, protect, weed, top, sucker, fertilize, chop, spear, load, carry, hang, wait for drying, unload, de-stalk, sort, stack, bale, and then tote off to auction…. It was a year-long battle of endurance for that “cashcrop” that is tobacco….. and I hated every second of it….. and I did it every single summer from the ages of 12 to 17….

… but yes, the song…… that has been what has caused all of the rambling….. so I guess that I should share…. So, here you go…… enjoy…

“way back in my memory there’s a scene that I recall
Of a little rundown cabin in the woods
My Daddy never promised that our blue moon would turn gold
But he lay awake night wishin’ that it would…”

….. we should all be so lucky as to notice those little things that end up meaning so much to us later on in life…… and I am not talking about me….. no, not me at all…… good god, I miss those little cues all the time….. they transit by me at a furious pace, and I miss them ALL the time….. but for us all, we need to stop and listen…. and watch….

…. Whether tobacco, corn, cotton, sugar cane, legislation, doctorial, presidential, or whatever manner of vocation that your Father, Mother, Grandfather, or Grandmother won the bread for your family, just stop and listen once in a while….. trust me, it is important……

… my Father, the Railroadman, is dead…… and he will be dead a long, long time……. and I cried when I watched that video that I linked above…..

….. but look….. the boys that I linked are talking about music….. and they do it very well…. but their message is truly timeless….. a bit romantic and over-the-top, sure….. but it is still a message worth listening to….

… no, I’ve never been to an old rundown cabin in the woods….. and I never truly understood the idea of my “blue moon” turning into “gold”.. but I guarantee that my Father DID lie awake at night wishing that our blue moon would turn gold…..

…. Just as all of your Fathers did….. … and that is the power of that song……

… sorry for the rant, folks….. but I was in a bad mood….. and I do so adore that song……

The SEC is like a daisy chain. It doesn't matter whose butt your cock is in, because there's always somebody behind you, returning the favor. Or something like that. Apparently I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Location...

….. I washed out the garage this afternoon and discovered another black widow spider…. That makes seven so far this year…. This one wasn’t quite as big as her sisters, but she was still quite formidable….

… the scary thing about this latest black widow was the choice she made of where to build her web….

… before washing off the concrete, I made a run around the garage and moved everything that I wanted to remain dry up onto the pool table…. And as I reached for the big, black binder that keeps all my CDs held snugly (it was leaning against the wall below the stereo), I noticed the web…. the clever female had used my CD case as a lean-to….. but hey, that’s one thing about a Black Widow’s web… once you have seen one, they are easy to spot…. And once you’ve followed the silken tendrils up and spied the shiny, black spider?... well, to say that you’ll retain that web-recognition ability is without question….

…. Anyway, I was a bit shocked to see her in the garage….. usually there are just American house spiders in residence there, and it struck me as a bit exotic to see her scratching out a living down there among Warren Zevon and Neil Young……I killed her, of course….. she was just too close to where “I” live to be let-off with a warning….. so I nipped her in two with one of the knives that were resting on the foundation’s ledge near her….

… but that’s just the way it is, folks…..Life & Livelihood are sometimes governed by being at the right place at the right time…. if she’d chosen a nook in the Dogwood tree just ten feet to the south, she’d have done just fine….. but instead?.... oblivion….

… my goodness….. location, location, location, folks…… there are a million quips about it….. “ships passing in the night”, “people missing each other time and time again from place to place only to find each other forty years later and fall madly in love”, “It’s a small world”, etc., etc, ad infinitum… location, location, location……

…. I truly hated to do her in, really….. and I actually hesitated for just a split-second before lopping her in half…… she truly was a beautiful creature, after all.… but sadly, even the Almighty Power of Beauty crumbles and falls to the cold, unflinching rules of Location, Timing, and Just Plain Bad Luck…..

When I lived in Calexico, California, I had a place that was overrun with black widow spiders. I mean that iterally. If I killed em all, with a potent spray (more potent back then than nowadays), they would be back within a few days to a week starting to spread webs elsewhere in the house. I usually could easily find about 10 to 15 webs in my home at any given time. When their eggs hatched there were literally 50 to 100 babies in the web.

I apparently was bitten by one, no pain at all. Just had a slight itch on my left forearm (inner side) and when I scratched I felt a bump. The bump was in the general shape of half a duck's egg cut lenghtwise. It was about half the size, in other words half an egg on my arm. Yes it was a big bump. Went to the hospital as there was also some dizziness that got worse over the hour or so after I first felt the bump, and there was a red line next to my veins that went up to my underarm. Docs immediately asked me if I had a black widow problem. They also told me that the red line on my arm was due to lymph nodes taking away poison. They gave me a shot. I felt better several hours later. I do not recall how long I had the bump but it did last a bit.

Now that I am back in NY I never see them, although I do hear of them up this way now and again. They reportedly get here as hitch hikers with people who move, or in shipments from warmer places.

Coping....

…. I spent most of the day driving the Sainted Mother to and from the hospital to have the staples removed from her knee…… and while she was a trooper throughout, I still had to cringe just a bit….. I mean, staples and human flesh just don’t mix, if you ask me….. sure, I’ve been superglued and stitched-up, but staples?.... no thanks…..

… and in other news, the nursing home is definitely beginning to grate on my otherwise sensible sensibilities….. I swear, the more that I go there the more that I loathe the experience…… but….. and this is a very big but…. I escorted my Mother to rehab twice over the past few days and I have been amazed at the interaction that she has with the other inmates…..

…. At first – walking beside her while she toddled along in her walker – I heard a drooling & wheelchaired man say “gurgle oogle oogle gurgle gurgle” as she passed…… and I was mortified….. oh, the humanity!... that poor, out-of-his-gourd fellow!..... but to my astonishment, my Momma turned and replied…. “why, how nice!... thank you Mr. Johnson!... these ARE new capri pants that I’m wearing!.... and yes, my son WAS throwing rocks at you!”…. which caused Mr. Johnson to break into belly-fits of laughter……. It was much like a blogmeet in the awesome incredulity of the circumstance…. But still, it was funny in a warped, demented, and deeply hopeless sort of way……

… but that brings me to my point…

….. so either my Mother is completely losing it…. or she has learned to speak to the elderly on a whole new strata-level…. And either way I am doomed…. confused, sure… but doomed absolutely….. OR she has completely found herself a new niche as the Cheryl Ladd of the Old Folks Home……

… which would take my current paranoia to a completely new level…..

... I mean, DAMN, the last thing that I need is one of these guys as my new stepfather.....

Been there, done that, feel your pain. But on your last fear, not to worry. As loony as most of the inmates are, they are somehow smart enough to not get hitched. They are painfully aware of the loss of SS payments, benefits, etc. Nevertheless, you should always have a couple of rocks in your back pockets to throw at the old coot...

Elvis....

…. When I was fourteen years old I drew a self-portrait of myself for Mrs. Ealy’s summer art class….. sporting a Winchester Firearms baseball cap that was frayed at the brim by way too much time spent hunting early-autumn doves, the artwork was a sight to behold…. And yes, I drove my ’51 Ford all the way in to Englewood to sit at those art lessons…… I bring this up only in passing, of course….. since even though I wasn’t really a fan of The King, my early self-portrait looked a LOT like a pubescent Elvis ala 1955….. less the black eye-shadow….. and the pouty lips…. (I have no lips per se.... just bits of skin to cover my teeth...)

.. but those of you who have met me will recognize right off that bat that I look very, VERY little like Elvis….. (I know that this will come as a huge shock to many of you, and I am truly sorry..) ….

… but yet, there it is….. in my mind’s little eye (and even though I was more into ZZ Top than Elvis), the picture speaks for itself even unto this day… I might post a shot of it later in the week if I can dig it out of the closet….. which, incidentally, is exactly where it belongs…….

…. But this weekend, of course, I was blessed to meet a True Artiste and have my caricature scrawled by his horny hands….. if you wanna see it, it be here….. (I am down near the bottom..... the guy who looks like he has leprosy..) ....

…. But trust me now, boys and girls, there ain’t no Elvis wannabees anywhere to be seen ANYWHERE in that sketch…. as a matter of fact, it looks like a pretty odd collection of weeble wobbles…… but hey, it WAS a blogmeet after all…. and I’d imagine that Mr. Cox’s drawing is pretty much spot on….. those of us who weren’t weebling by the end of the night were most definitely wobbling…..

Stiff....

…. Survived another one, folks…. I’m sore everywhere….. and I can still blast a hanging curveball out of the ballpark… good God, pretending that I was twelve years old all day on Saturday made today’s birthday morning (at 35) a stiff and sore-muscled one…..

…. wow..... Just Damn!..... Trust me, fellow bloggers…. there is no place on Earth like Helen, Ga when the bloggers come to town……

Glad you made it back safe. Happy birthday you young wipper snapper. 35... ahhhh. Those were the days. I trust your sunglasses are still with you? I'm gonna have to get on Sam, if you didn't lose 'em this year. He must be slackin'...

It's still your birthday? Damn, that feels like it was 20 time zones ago. Believe you me, young whippersnapper, we are both feeling the hurt. I never expected to leave feeling like I've been pile driven by Andre the Giant. But it's definitely a good kind of pain.

You know you're getting older when you measure the fun you had by the next morning's soreness. Glad you survived another and wish I coulda been there. 35? Damn, I've got kids older than that, and I'm only 39.Of course, age don't matter, unless you need to pick up twigs out of the yard. Or tie your shoes. Or climb a ladder. Or...

Plankowner....

…. I was up early this morning and quickly zipped out to visit my Sainted Mother…..she is coming along very nicely, and the surgery (and physical therapy) seem to have left her with no more pain than she was experiencing BEFORE the surgery…. that just amazes me…. I mean, if your knee is hurting so badly that having the damn thing CUT OUT didn’t hurt much more?.... good God…..

…. in a nutshell, that means that she was well overdue to have that bum knee replaced….

…. and the inmate she is rooming with at the nursing home is a sweet little thing…. her name is Marie and she is 90 years old…. wheelchair bound and as deaf as a post, she still has all of her mental faculties and is quite a clever conversationalist…. albeit they’re a bit one-way since she can’t hear your replies, but still, you always have to look on the bright side… especially since the ain’t that many bright sides in a damnable nursing home….

… I took Marie some onion rings that I’d picked up at the local Sonic yesterday and she ate every damn one of them…. and then shook the crumbs out of the little paper bag and nibbled them too…. She’d told me a few days earlier that she “liked” the onion rings from Sonic…. Heh… “liked” was likely the understatement of the century….. that tiny, twisted, lovable white-haired old lady ate those onion rings like they were dipped in honey… or like they were going to be her last meal…. which, incidentally, they might, I guess…..

… there is another old guy who I see nearly every time that I visit…. short and thin, but walking around as straight as a ramrod…. hands always tucked into the pockets of his blue “US Navy” windbreaker…. And his surface warfare badge pinned to the front of his “USS Yorktown (CV-10) Plankowner” baseball cap….. I definitely need to find out more about that guy…. I bet he is a BIG hit with the female inmates…. Oh yeah…..

… anyway, I’m off to scrabble through the kitchen in search of something to cook for dinner…. It’s 60 degrees outside and the wind is gusting…. So I’m thinking chili…. Or maybe potato soup with lots and lots of cheese….. I’ll be sure to keep you guys in the loop…..

I am contemplating crockpot chicken soup for dinner tomorrow. It's been chilly, rainy, and that seems like exactly the thing. Whip up some of that "beer bread" I got from an "online party" and I think I'll have a pretty good meal going there.

Tomorrow you will be on your way to Helen though so I will think of your mom and her cute little roomie while I'm eating. ;-)

My Mom is in a nursing home. All the food tastes the same, like styrofoam flavored with tap water. No salt, little or no grease. She begs for and devours burgers and fries from a fast food joint.

Some of the inmates can be amazing. Last year at her facility, an 88 year old babe was caught in bed with a 92 year old dude. They were humping away. After that they were separated and moved to separate wings. Damn shame. Should have let them enjoy, I mean what's the harm. It's not like she's gonna get pregnant or they're likely to contract an STD.

I use to work at one of the State's Pioneer Homes here in Southeast. I met an old fella resident named Dave. He was a hoot, he'd always try and get me to share a Rainier beer with him during my work hours.

He told me something about himself once that i have never forgotten... He fell in love with a gal and then he had to go off to war. While he was gone, she met someone else and got pregnant. When he came back from the war and found out, he was heartbroken. He told me he still loved her with all his heart, even all these years later, and he never fell in love or married anyone else his whole life.

He died 3 weeks later, and all that was left of him was a shoe box full of pictures and little whatnots. I "stole" one of the pictures of him out of that box, and to this day I have that picture of him on my fridge. I'll never forget him.

Temperature....

… the wind has blown steadily all day here… not a very strong wind, but a sort of wind that seems to be everywhere all at once…. each leaf on every tree – from grass-level to the tip-tops – is wiggling, bucking, and vibrating in unison with his companions…..

… makes you quite dizzy, actually, if you look at it long enough…..

… anywhoo, I gatheredtogether with a few of the usualsuspects (and Bou's charming sister, Morrigan) last night for a fine lunch, enjoyable meal, and very pleasant company….. and this weekend – and the annual Helen Blogtoberfest – will be upon us before we know it…

Update...

…. The past few days have been one helluva roller coaster…… enough so that even little ole me has stressed just a bit here and there…. but now it seems that everything has evened out….. after dealing with a nurse with a Napoleon Complex, the sailing has been smooth…

…. But I will say this, folks…. If you have your wits about you and end up being put in a nursing home?.... you most certainly wont have those wits after a few weeks…… it was an eye-opening experience that I do believe has scarred me for life…. And having to place my sane Mother in amongst those forgotten, hopeless inmates has seriously messed with hers AND my heads…. How anyone could drop off their Mothers or Fathers – after years of love and kindness – into such places and never come to visit just blows my mind…..

…. As for me when my day comes?.... I seriously doubt that I’ll slip away like those old folks…. ancient, crippled, forgotten, and gasping through each day just isn’t in my cards, I suspect…. My lifestyle choices are not ones that normally produce longevity…. And after seeing how the old are treated lately, I’m kinda glad of that….

I had thought she was coming along okay after the surgery, so I am surprised to hear she is in a nursing home now. If she can care for herself somewhat, then try to find an assisted living home for her; much better than a nursing home.

My granfather was placed into a nursing home after a stroke. At that time that was the place to be after such an incident, well there or at home with someone to care for you 24/7. We were not able to care for him in that condition to that extent. I went to see him pretty regularly until he passed away, which was not too long after he got there. The stroke did him in, not the nursing home.

As for being there and having your wits about you, it may be bad or may be okay. There was an old timer, in the same place as my grand dad, who was going at it each time I visited the place. Yes I mean as in sex. Different old lady each time! Go figure, I guess he was still capable and that put him in high demand. Of course there were more folks there who were witless or incapacitated, and incapable of just about anything one way or the other. Sad places indeed.

If your mom has to be in one, see her regularly, bring her gifts and things to keep her occupied, and it will be easier for her. I visited my mon often while she was in rehab three times. Once for a replaced hip, once for a replaced knee, and once for a wired together hip (on the same side as replaced knee so they could not replace the hip too). My mom made it through, and now lives with my sister and brother in law (a better man than me). Hopefully your mom will fall in with those there who have their wits about them, and it will be bearable for her.

I fully understand the dilema you are in, a hard thing to do, but sometimes it is impossible to care for a loved one, as they should be cared for, at home. They need professional help, and that is usually not available at home unless you are a multi-millionaire. Hopefully this is only temporary until her knee heals.

I have heard nursing homes referred to as Carpeted Catacombs. I think they nailed it. It's a tough gig, going through one of those. The smell alone will get you.

Your Mom is a tough woman, from what you have written. There is no doubt in my mind she will not only see this through, but may be running the joint at the end. The key is family support. The more visible you are, the less apt she is to get the substandard care.

I've been told residents in the 'home' get visits either once a day, once a week, once a year-or never. That's the pattern. I'm a once a weeker. I work outside the home and the weekend is all I have. As a 'tweener', it was hard buying diapers for my children and my Mom at the same time. At least the boys outgrew the diapers. She still managed to find a new boyfriend 'inside'. The old ladies all hate her for it. My brother and I laugh about it.
We have to...

My parents are both self sustaining to date. My wifes parents weren't early on in our relationship. Her mom, once she was in a "home", would call me and ask for the steak juice from steaks we'd eat, and a bag of french fries. Hell... who was I to say no. I just poured it, fried it, toted it over there and watched the smile.

So very, very true. A nursing home is the one place my Mother is TERRIFIED to end up. My sister's and I have made a pact to keep her with us unless it becomes medically necessary and even then, she will have at least one of use visit her every day. Parenting is not easy but by God she has earned our devotion.

I sure hope your Mother is doing better and I hope you pass on our well wishes and prayers.

What matters is, Acidman will rise and collect himself from his eternal cinder box slumber, and curse you with some kind of Southern affliction, like poison ivy, or getting your freckled behind whooped at Half Rubber at Helen. Or something.

You coulda at least picked a better version. Bobby Osbourne looks like he just got off an embalming table. Perhaps a version by Pantera or Tool, if such a thing exists, would better exemplify the air of modern progression you ridge runners are undergoing. If not, try this version on for size.

Thanks....

…. To all of you who’ve sent well-wishes to my Sainted Mother, a sincere thank you…… I have passed on to her your kind words and she is deeply touched…. Although she still thinks the fact that I have a blog is weird beyond words, she has been moved by the messages of you lovable hammerheads very much….. so, a hearty thank you to you all….. and, for those of you who are curious, she is doing just fine…. Healing well, already up walking with the help of a physical therapist and a large brace, and generally looking forward to living a fine life with a new knee……

…. So if anyone out there is hemming and hawing about getting one (that’s you, Raging Mom)… quit dealing with the pain, find a good surgeon, and start life anew……

…. But enough of all that….. knees are not a topic which I am well-versed in discussing as mine both work just fine….. so far…….. so, in a random change of topic, I will report that tonight I baked two chicken breasts that were stuffed with extra-sharp cheese, mushrooms, salt, pepper, sautéed mushrooms, onions, and garlic…… and then covered with a thick, savory egg, parmesan, breadcrumb glaze for baking….. and in a word?... “wow”….. they were pretty damned tasty, folks….. and yet they still maintained that subtle hillbilly quality while pinned closed with toothpicks…..

….. so, hey, that’s me for the evening….. I spent the morning visiting with my Mother & Brother….. spent the afternoon shopping for dinner-time stuff….. and spent the evening cooking…..

….. and now it is cocktail hour and I am off to introduce myself (most cordially) to a 17-year old Bowmore….. ahhh, the sweet, gentle, caramel charms of a freshly un-corked 17-year old….. I can hardly wait….

I understand calling for three- and four-cheeses in recipes, and even different variations of onions. I also am quite a fan of the Triple Decker Deli Sandwich, comprised of corned beef, pastrami, and turkey on rye...

But mushrooms...and then sautéed mushrooms??? Now I see what my mother meant when she says I always manage to fall in with a wrong crowd.

Bleccch.

Hey, as long as you ate in good health, that's all that really matters.

Re: shrooms. I love 'em. Or at least I used to love them as the last time I had them was years ago. I ate an entire bag...I think it was supposed to be 4 or 5 doses. Ooopsie! I tripped like a motherfucker for hours. Man, that was a great time.

Character....

…. It has been a long while since I posted any of Robert Service’s words…. and that is a shame… he’s one of the men on my Theoretical Shortlist that I’d love to have many, many drinks with over a fine meal…..

… so tonight I’m taking a wee break from computer-sitting, and will instead firmly settle myself in a cushioned chair to read…… I highly suggest that y’all do much the same….

… the poem below is from his “Carols of an Old Codger” that was published in 1954……. And hey, even used ellipses in the title!..... rock on, Mr. Service!.... behold…..

How often do I wish I were..., by Robert W. Service

How often do I wish I were
What people call a character;
A ripe and cherubic old chappie
Who lives to make his fellows happy;
With in his eyes a merry twinkle,
And round his lips a laughing wrinkle;
Who radiating hope and cheer
Grows kindlier with every year.

For this ideal let me strive,
And keep the lad in me alive;
Nor argument nor anger know,
But my own way serenely go;
The woes of men to understand,
Yet walk with humour hand in hand;
To love each day and wonder why
Folks are not so jocund as I.

So be you simple, decent, kind,
With gentle heart and quiet mind;
And if to righteous anger stung,
Restrain your temper and your toungue.
Let thought for others be your guide,
And patience triumph over pride . . .
With charity for those who err,
Live life so folks may say you were--
God bless your heart!--A Character.

…. It is a good poem… and I like it a lot….. but the true ‘characters’ that I know around here?.... well, they’re a lot of fun to hang around with… but ‘cherubic’ they most certainly ain’t…. ‘devilish’ is a much more enjoyable trait in a ‘character’, if you ask me…. but I do see Robbie’s point…..

Good stuff but I still like his Yukon/Sourdough writings better. "He's obstinate and he won't lie straight and he's froze too hard to thaw. I guess there's nothing for it, I guess I gotta saw." Blasphemous Bill McKie

Drugs....

…. Well, gentle reader, today was the day that my Sainted Mother went under the knife…… wait, did I say knife?..... knife, hammer, chisel, bone saw, drill, & screwdriver, actually…..

… that’s right, folks she now is in possession of one brand spanking new (and mind-bendingly sore) left knee….

…. I was up at 3:30am to pick her up at 4am to deliver her at the hospital by 5am…… and I’m pooped….. 3:30am is an ungodly hour of the morning and it isn’t fit for man nor beast, just trust me….

…. On the more pleasant plane, I saw my Mother introduced to Mr. Morphine today…. and they quickly became the most marvelous of pals….

…. I suppose that one of the teensy perks of surviving life to adulthood is that you might be afforded the opportunity to watch your Sainted Parents loop themselves up on high-octane drugs and then tell you slurringly about the “day you were born”…. And NOT being afraid to cut out any of the gory details….. (… yeah, loosing the tongue, folks…. That’s another little bag of tricks that Mr. Morphine brings to the table when he shows up for business….. a healthy dose of just plain ole everyday ‘don’t give a shit’…)

… but really, it is those very ‘gory details’ which make the stories of life truly human, no?.... to wit, a conversation…..

Me: … Mom, why was I born down here in Cleveland instead of someplace closer to home?....

Drug-addled Momma (DAM): … HEY! Hey!.... nothing but the best for you, buddy-boy….. Cleveland had the best obstetricianseses….. oh, and because I totally hated Dr. Stephens in Athens….. he was such a complete bastard…

Me: … oh, ok….. wow…. So why was Josh born in Etowah?....

DAM: …. Well, by the time that I had him, it was all about comfort and ease… I wasn’t about to drive all the way to Cleveland… and besides, I was working in a beauty shop in Etowah at the time and I did some of Dr. Benson’s nurses’ hair…. So it was quick, easy, and I knew some of the nurses….

Me: …. Cool…. Must have been a comfort to have seen those friendly faces peering out from between those stirrup-thinggies….

DAM: …. Yeah, well…. not really…. nevermind….. maybe….. you know, when I had Joshua there in Etowah, I never made a single sound through the whole labor…. Four hours, it took…. I never had any painkillers through either of y’all’s births…..

Me: … what?... bhwahhaahha!.... hey, I’ve never had a kid… describe it to me….

DAM: … no…

Me: … okey dokey….. want some Sprite?.....

DAM: …. Actually, I had done the hair of the two nurses that he chose to assist him when Josh was born…. And there was no way in HELL that I was going to have them coming into the salon and spouting off about how I thrashed, cried, or whatever….. so I just never made one single sound during the whole thing….. afterwards I had bruises on my hands from where I pushed against the birthing-chair so hard…. Gossips…. I so hate people that gossip….. but you know, I never uttered a peep…. Not one single sound….. those girls can kiss my ass….

Me: … yes, Momma…. They most certainly can…..

…. ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you, my Sainted Mother – when in the right frame of mind – is one helluva chick to be reckoned with…..

… here’s to a speedy recovery….. and a giant hope that I manage to write down everything else she said before it slips from my memory….. rehab is gonna be a blast…..

Bestest wishes to your Sainted Momma. My own, well. She was under some morphine herself for a bout with cellulitis a whiles back, and not only did she describe it as a wholly unpleasant sensation [which I refuse to believe], but I got to the hospital by the time the damned stuff wore off.

Naturally, I was kicking myself that day for the exact same reason you rejoice -- who can resist, I ask you, the prospect of seeing their own mother stoned out of her mind?

Eric,
My Mom on painkillers? Not a pretty sight. The last time, she was in a rage at the hospital, totally out of control. The nurses asked if anyone was spending the night with her. We all shook our heads and said, "See you in the morning!" It takes her a good 14 days to totally come down off of morphine.

Catnip.....

….. I am continually amazed by the data on Wikipedia…… and since I found it a few years ago, it has really led me down some twisty, moss-covered paths…..

…. like tonight, for instance…. .tonight I started checking to find the true reason that one of our cats flips out like John Belushi used to with an 8-ball of coke every time I sprinkle a little catnip on the deck….. and as you do, I clicked, and clicked, and clicked….. and read, read, and read some more….. and in the end?.... it all comes down to pheromones…

….see, catnip messes with a kitty-cat’s olfactory epithelium… not, as you may have guessed instead, through their vomeronasal organ!!..... so, in short, they smell it and it works’em into a frenzy……. but I did click on vomeronasal organ’s entry, too…… and indeed, it is a “somewhat mysterious” organ according to Wikipedia…..

…. snakes use it to “smell” their prey by flicking their tongues to catch molecules and then brushing their tongues against the organ to “taste” where their dinner might be hiding…… Elephants who hold out their trunks and then dip it up and under and into their mouths?..... they’re doing pretty much the same type of thing as the snakes….. tasting the air for random molecules and then letting their organ do its thing……

…. Why do I bring this up after I have already been on a nasal/nostril related jag very recently?...... well, there was one particular paragraph that I found which just totally rocked my world….. here, check this out….

Anatomical studies demonstrate that in humans the vomeronasal organ regresses during fetal development, as is the case with some other mammals, including apes, cetaceans, and some bats. There is no evidence of a neural connection between the organ and the brain in adult humans. Nevertheless, a small pit may be found in the nasal septum of some people, and some researchers have argued that this pit represents a functional vomeronasal organ. Thus, its possible presence in adult humans remains controversial.

…. (Cetaceans are whales, by the way, just in case you were curious…. Yeah, I looked it up)…..

…. But really?.... just think of the implications to humanity… to us as an interacting, civilized & politically correct species…. that there are some folks out there who are on a whole new sensory level than the rest of humanity… and in particular, with their ability to sense and recognize pheromones… those little chemical signals that flag such primal reactions as sexual attraction, food, alarm, territorial boundaries, trails leading home, and a million other things…… it just boggles my mind that there might be humans who – unknowingly – can sense these things as well……

…. it’s like that scene in “Werewolf” where Jack Nicholson goes in into the bathroom and pisses on the guys shoes next to him once he catches a whiff….. taking “Alpha Male” to a whole new level, folks…. Wow… it just blows my mind that some humans might actually be able to subconsciously receive those tiny little details of life….. and what of Michelle Pfeiffer’s character?...... the mind truly boggles….

…. lookit, folks, we’re all animals, sure… and some of us are closer to being barbarians than others….. but having a gland in your head that is completely un-evolved purely to taste the pheromones in the air?..... that is just plain marvelous….

… then again, I might just be eaten up with jealousy….. because, well, I WANT one….

Hmmm... You know what I got out that post brotha? Let me lay it on you...

Next time I lose control of the King Snake in the head, and wizz on the next fella's shoes... I'm gonna damn sure drop a "Oh, sorry, it's my vomeronasal that made me do that."... knowing full well that I just pissed on somebody's shoes 'cause you said I could, and gave me a word to get away with it.

Hell man, most will probably tell me to see a doctor and get it fixed...

Oh, one more thing... Congrats on the Tenn. game last weekend.

Yeah, I know they didn't play, but they've got just as good a record this week as they last. Some teams can't say that.
;)

Hey, you should check out Indigo kids, not the band, the kids. Supposed to be the "new" humans. spoiled brats with granola headed parents I say. But what do I know?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indigo_children